No Matter How Far You Run
by Meemo1415
Summary: In which Matt finds out that finding Mello is not as hard as living with him. Collection of drabbles with a high probability of eventual Mello/Matt.


So this is a set of 5 drabble-like things that about Mello and Matt... I'm working my way up to a collection/story of them, but I'm just going to post these now and finish the rest later.

Hope you enjoy them.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except, you know... what I do own.

* * *

"You found me."

His voice is flat and unsurprised. He stands outside an apartment block in downtown Toronto, wind whipping his short blond hair about. His companion's own reddish hair is a mess, and he looks like he's been traveling for weeks. Rain is pattering against the awning above their heads.

"Of course," the other boy says, his voice wavering, though whether it is a result of the wind or emotion is a mystery. The expression on his face tells all passers by that what he is saying is important, however what he doesn't say is the most important. They haven't always spoken like this; twisting words and embedding each sentence with secret, coded meanings.

_'I'll always find you. No matter where you go or how far you run."_

They stand there, rain falling in sheets and coating the street, though they are essentially safe from the downpour. The blond boy searches his friend's face, looking for something.

After minutes that feel like hours, he nods, ever so slightly. Then he turns back towards the building, and the other boy's face falls.

"You coming in?"

_'I'm glad you're here.'_

He smiles, picking his face up off the floor and follows the blond into the lobby.

"Where else would I go?"

_'I'm glad I'm here, too.'_

_--oOo--_

"Mello, what the heck is this?"

"My kitchen?"

"Yeah, so you say. Where the fuck is the food?"

"At the store?"

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah, yeah... Where are you going?"

"You mean where are _we_ going. And to the store. To get food. You know, that thing that's kind of a necessity for survival?"

"Oh. Okay."

--oOo--

"I missed you, you idiot," Matt says, glaring at Mello. They sit, sprawled on a couch in their apartment, limbs overlapping and almost becoming one. It has been a couple of weeks since Mello opened the door to Matt again, and they have avoided all talk of before. The hidden meaning in these words is clear.

_'Why did you leave me?'_

"I missed you too, but I had to go, you know?"

_'Don't ask me why, please don't ask me why.'_

"I know."

_'No, I don't.'_

Mello shifts, moving his legs to rest them on Matt's lap, leaning his head against the arm of the couch.

"Did you go to the funeral?"

_'Did you say goodbye for me?'_

"Yeah. It was a sad... I cried" Matt says, laughing.

_'I wish you had been there'_

"Baby," Mello teases.

_'I wish I could have been there.'_

There is a pause, then Mello clicks the remote and random noises drown out the silence. They watch people they don't know blow each other up and listen to the woes of the world on the news. Matt isn't really listening though, he's simply enjoying the strange, comfortable silence between them.

--oOo--

"Okay, Mello. What's your issue?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That! Usually you'd blow up in my face for a comment like that. Instead, you're almost scarily calm. It's ... different."

"Things change."

"And that! You're... deep, all of a sudden."

"It was hardly sudden."

"When did it start, then?"

"Want to go to the movies, or something?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Don't ask pointless questions."

"I just want to know what happened!"

"NOTHING HAPPENED, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU A– and let's just go to the movies, okay?"

"... Okay."

_'He's baaack.'_

_--oOo--_

"You done with that?" Matt asks, gesturing with his free hand towards Mello's starbucks cup. He pulls the car over next to a garbage can. It is one of those new-fangled garbage cans with a strange, rounded lid and a small hole in the top.

"Not quite. This is like heaven in a freaking CUP. I'm going to enjoy it as long as I can," he says, while glaring at Matt as though he was attempting to steal his drink and was, therefore, the equivalent of Satan.

"No hurry," Matt says, while tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"I can't enjoy it when you do that!"

"Do what?"

"That tapping thing."

"What, this?" Matt taps out a beat on the steering wheel, and when Mello nods, he lets out a sigh of exasperation. "How can tapping my fingers possibly interfere with the enjoyment of your drink?"

"It's annoying."

Matt stares incredulously at Mello for a few minutes, before admitting defeat. The blond has already lost interest, instead staring into his drink as if it held the all the answers.

A few minutes later: "Done"

He says it with pride, as though he has accomplished some great task. Then he turns and attempts to put the cup in the bin. He stretches, leaning out the window, reaching as far as he can. It doesn't help, and he has to slowly slide it along the rounded lid. Matt watches, enraptured.

When the cup is a few inches away from the hole in the center, he shoves it up, but it simply slides back into his hand. He stretches further, which seems impossibly.

He is twisted in a very peculiar way, as he hasn't undone his seat belt, and his shirt has slid up his stomach exposing pale skin.

Matt stares.

Mello shoves once more, and this time he overshoots. It slides right over the lid and over to the other side.

Matt begins to laugh, and Mello turns to glare at him. That only makes him laugh even harder.

When the laughs subside, Matt gasps out, "After a-all that, you still miss!"

"Shut up," Mello growls. "I'm not a basketball player."

"Clearly," Matt says, as he turns off the car and goes to retrieve the cup.

--oOo--


End file.
